


No Friend of Mine

by EmynIthilien



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: A friendship that never was but should have been, Community: got_exchange, Gen, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5017288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmynIthilien/pseuds/EmynIthilien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All his life, Stannis has been haunted by Ned Stark: the name, the man, and the memory.  Is it simply because of jealousy, or is there something much deeper going on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Friend of Mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yaakov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaakov/gifts).



> This story was written back in June for the 13th round of [got_exchange](http://got-exchange.livejournal.com/) on livejournal. Yaakov had requested a fic exploring the complicated relationship between Stannis and Ned.
> 
> Warning: This story references canonical character deaths as well as the Theon sample chapter from _The Winds of Winter_.

“I knew Ned Stark as well. Your father was no friend of mine, but only a fool would doubt his honor or his honesty.”

Stannis Baratheon to Jon Snow, _A Storm of Swords_ Jon XI

 

**I. The Name**

_Lord Arryn is fostering another boy my age. His name is Ned Stark…_

_You wouldn’t believe all the fun I’ve been having, Stannis! Why, just the other day Ned Stark and I…_

_Ned Stark is always by my side, when we fight and when Lord Arryn forces us to study…_

_I’ve never had a friend as true as Ned Stark, for he’s my brother in anything except name…_

As much as Stannis looked forward to Robert’s infrequent letters from the Eyrie, reading them always left a bitter taste in his mouth. _Ned Stark, Ned Stark, Ned Stark_! Robert never failed to mention his new friend from the frozen North and all the fun they were having together. Stannis was tempted to write back many times and tell Robert that _he_ was his brother, and that didn’t he miss _him_ when he was gone from Storm’s End? But he never did, for father always talked him out of it.

“There’s no need to be mad at Robert, Stannis. One day you’ll have more friends of your own, but that won’t suggest that Robert will mean any less to you.”

“I don’t have any friends, father,” insisted Stannis with all the assurance of a twelve year old boy on the cusp of manhood. “I have you and mother, but you’re my _parents_. Then there’s Maester Cressen, and…”

Father cut him off. “Don’t you consider Robert a friend?”

Stannis frowned. “He’s my brother, not my friend.”

Father looked at him sadly. “Some things come with time, Stannis. I pray that both you and Robert will get past your boyhood rivalries and learn to respect each other.”

Stannis bit his lip, unable to imagine such a time. Perhaps if I was more like Ned Stark, Robert would like me better. But even then, would I still care for Robert at all beyond what duty requires of me? 

“The next time that Robert comes back to Storm’s End, can we invite Ned Stark to come with him?”

“That sounds like a fine idea, son. Now let’s go back to your lessons. We were just starting on the review of Storm’s End’s accounts for the past month. Even though my steward does a remarkable job, a good lord should always check the work to make sure he’s not being cheated…”

So Stannis sat patiently, listening to Lord Steffon Baratheon explain the duties of a high lord. There was no hurry for Robert to come back from the Eyrie with his friend in tow, not really, for Stannis relished the one-on-one time he got to spend with his father. Mother was expecting, so soon he would have a new little brother or sister, but the new child wouldn’t compete with him the way Robert did. Stannis let a contented smile creep across his face, and father gave him one in return.

 

**II. The Man**

It was five years before Stannis finally got to meet Ned Stark, and by then the _Windproud_ had shattered in Shipbreaker Bay and Robert had taken up the mantle of Lord Baratheon of Storm’s End. Not that Robert actually spent much _time_ at Storm’s End. Lord Arryn was still hosting him at the Eyrie, and it occurred to Stannis that Robert had spent more than half his life in the Vale. _Will the Stormlanders think their lord too much of a Valeman, save for his stormy temper?_ Robert left the day-to-day running of Storm’s End to castellans, though Stannis took it upon himself to be involved in the castle’s management as much as possible. That left Maester Cressen to joke that Robert should just appoint Stannis the castellan and be done with it, much to Stannis’ secret pleasure.

Robert returned to Storm’s End with much fanfare, trumpets announcing his arrival and golden banners with the Baratheon stag hung from every tower. Stannis was there to greet him, of course, with little Renly who had just celebrated his fourth nameday. After dismounting from his magnificent destrier, Robert threw Renly up into the air to his obvious delight, kissing him twice on both cheeks. _Robert’s essentially a stranger to Renly, yet he shows him more affection than he ever has me._

Robert clapped Stannis hard on the shoulders, so hard that Stannis’ teeth clacked together.

“Stannis.”

“Robert.”

“I see that Storm’s End still stands.”

“Why wouldn’t it? It’s as much my home as yours.” Out of the corner of his eye, Stannis saw Maester Cressen frown. _What else am I supposed to do or say? Kiss Robert’s feet and profusely express my happiness at his safe return? Robert might be my lord, but I’m his brother, not his servant._

Robert didn’t take offence at Stannis’ words, if he was even listening to them, for he was busy gesturing to a young man Stannis’ age with dark brown hair and a long face. When the man came forward, Robert promptly put his arm around his shoulders in a friendly gesture.

“Ned, this is my brother Stannis. Stannis, this is my friend Eddard Stark of Winterfell, who I’ve told you so much about over the years.”

Stannis stared at Ned Stark, blue eyes meeting grey. Stark held out a hand, and Stannis hesitated for a moment before grasping it.

“Well met, Lord Stark.”

“Well met, Stannis. Please call me Ned. I’m not lord of anything at the moment!”

Robert found that hilarious for some reason, and his booming laugh echoed in the courtyard. “I told Ned that even if he melts this far south, at the very least he’ll stop me from strangling you!”

Stannis narrowed his eyes, and Maester Cressen’s frown only deepened.

During his time at Storm’s End, Ned Stark was…a surprise, to say the least. Stannis had always expected him to be just like Robert, loud and reckless and ready to fight. But Ned was quiet and reserved, preferring to read or to have private conversations with the people of the castle. While Robert got himself raucously drunk at his welcoming feast, Ned nursed a single glass of wine. When Robert bragged about his hunting escapades or the women he had bedded, Ned failed to chime in with tales of his own. In fact, Ned seemed to frown in disapproval at Robert when he thought no one was looking.

When Robert had no need of Ned, Stannis found him good company. Ned was fascinated to hear Stannis talk about Storm’s End’s history, and in turn he shared the magical tales of the building of Winterfell. Both agreed that the magic part was a bit beyond belief, but they’d definitely believe it if they saw it. Ned didn’t complain when Stannis showed him the small fleet of ships at the castle, daring him to climb to the top of the crow’s nest of the biggest ship and spread his arms as if he were a crow himself.

“Is this what it feels like to be on top of the Wall, free with nothing to hold you back?”

Ned laughed. “I’ve never been to the Wall.”

“You haven’t?” wondered Stannis incredulously.

“The North is a big land. It takes three weeks to travel from Winterfell to the Wall, and that’s in summer before the snows come! I think I would like it there, though, just as much as you like being on the sea.”

_Ned noticed my love of the sea. Robert has never seen the value in it, for there’s nothing glorious to kill or fight out on the water. And swimming is one of the few areas where I’ve ever bested Robert._

But when Robert _had_ need of Ned, Stannis thought that Ned might as well have been back in Winterfell for all the good he did. Robert didn’t like being reminded that a high lord had duties other than calling his banners and going to war, and he didn’t have the patience to sit still and listen to petitioners or to do such _mundane_ things like make sure the taxes were collected.

“I have better things to do with my time than count coppers!”

“Has Lord Arryn been teaching you _anything_ , Robert?” countered Stannis one rainy afternoon. Robert was trapped inside his solar with a mountain of parchment in front of him. Ned was reading a book by the window. “Father never thought counting coppers beneath him.”

“I have stewards for that.”

“They won’t always be trustworthy. And besides, you should be intimately familiar with the amount and sources of your incomes so you don’t spend in excess. Do you even know what our annual income is? Or the greatest sources of wealth in the Stormlands?”

“I didn’t _ask_ your opinion, Stannis,” spat Robert, clearly irritated.

“You don’t know, do you,” Stannis stated.

Robert angrily stood up, looking very much like he would like to hit him. But then Ned looked up from his book and addressed Robert in a stern voice.

“Stannis is right, Robert, and it won’t hurt for you to listen to him. No duty is too small for a lord, as Lord Arryn always tells us. As well, you should take more time to get to know the people of Storm’s End and the Stormlands. You haven’t been back here since your parents’ drowning.”

Stannis stared at Ned in disbelief. _If you think that Robert was angry at_ me, _Ned, he’s going to be even more incensed at you! Robert can’t stand people telling him what to do, even if he needs to hear it. You of all people should know that._

However, instead of rounding on Ned, Robert sighed and sank back into his chair.

“You’re right, Ned. As usual. I should take my duties more seriously. Though if it’s not raining tomorrow, I _will_ go on a hunt and spear a boar for us to feast upon.”

Stannis’ eyes roved between Robert and Ned, not believing what had just happened. Ned Stark had given Robert much the same advice and he had, yet while Robert dismissed Stannis out of hand, he _listened_ to Ned. _Why, Robert? What did Ned say that I didn’t? Can’t you see that I have your best interests even more at heart because I’m your brother? Can’t you see that I’m just like Ned?_

Ned went back to reading his book, and Robert went back to muttering curses at the papers on his desk. Stannis turned on his heel and left the room as quickly as propriety would allow, not giving one glance back.

Before Robert and Ned left to go back to the Eyrie, Stannis sought out Ned to ask him a question that had been eating at him for their entire visit. Father would never have approved of it, nor would Maester Cressen, but Stannis was now a man grown and was capable of making his own decisions. For good or for ill.

“What do you see in Robert, Ned? You two have nothing in common.”

Ned looked thoughtfully at Stannis. “You’re right, and by the old gods and the new does Robert tease me about that! He thinks I should learn to live a little and not take everything so seriously.”

_Aye, Robert says that to me as well, but his teasing isn’t the jovial kind that you’re likely referring to._ When Stannis didn’t respond, Ned continued.

“Despite himself, though, Robert appreciates me. I counsel restraint and help temper his…temper.” Ned chuckled. “Lord Arryn has told us many times that a good lord surrounds himself not only with like-minded men, but with men who have different strengths and wisdom to offer.”

“That’s fair advice. I would like to meet Lord Arryn one day. But you didn’t answer my question,” Stannis pointed out.

“I didn’t?”

“No. You haven’t said why _you_ are loyal to Robert.”

Ned scratched his chin, contemplating. “Your brother had the makings of a great leader, and I would follow Robert to my death if that’s what he asked me.”

~

Stannis next met Ned Stark at the conclusion of the Storm’s End siege. Ned came riding up to the castle with a good sized army, grey and white direwolf banners flapping in the wind, and a Valyrian steel great-sword in his hand. Lord Tyrell didn’t even put up a fight, surrendering unconditionally and wishing the new King Robert Baratheon, First of His Name, good health and a long reign. Stannis gave Lord Tyrell a disgusted look all throughout his surrender. As Ned was drawing up terms, Stannis insisted that Lord Tyrell concede the majority of his food stores to the Storm’s End garrison. Or else he might very well find himself thrown in a dungeon and _himself_ forced to starve for a year. As the fat flower sputtered, Ned simply raised his eyebrows.

As Stannis and Ned rode into Storm’s End’s courtyard side by side, many of the starving castle inhabitants shook Ned’s hand and told him what a hero he was for breaking the siege. Stannis ground his teeth every time praise was directed toward Ned. _It was Ser Davos who saved us all, for we’d all either be dead or eating the dead if he hadn’t sailed in with his onions and salt fish._ One of the kitchen girls threw her arms around Ned’s neck and gave him a big kiss on the mouth, much to his embarrassment. _And_ I _held this castle;_ I _stopped Lord Tyrell from putting everyone to the sword. Isn’t that just as heroic?_

Later, Stannis hosted Ned in the lord’s solar and learned about Robert’s great victory on the Trident and Jaime Lannister’s murder of King Aerys Targaryen. Stannis had opened a bottle of Arbor gold confiscated from Lord Tyrell, and while he wasn’t normally one to drink, if felt satisfying to drink one of the many things he had been taunted with the past year.

“War seems to agree with you, Lord Stark.” Indeed, for Stark was leaner and stronger since Stannis had last seen Robert’s friend two years ago. However, Stark’s eyes had a haunted look that made him appear at least twenty namedays older.

“As I told you before, please call me Ned.”

“But you’re Lord Stark now, are you not?” Stark looked at his boots and sadly nodded his head. “That’s your correct title.”

Stark looked rather hurt, but there wasn’t anything for him to disagree with. “As you wish, Ser Stannis. Robert told me that he knighted you before he rode off to war.”

“He did, for he didn’t believe the garrison at Storm’s End would follow me unless I had a title.”

“And did they?”

“Well enough. There was only one attempted mutiny…” Stannis trailed off, for Stark didn’t seem in the mood to hear more stories about death and suffering. “We survived. The castle stood, and both King Robert’s brothers are alive.”

“I’m very glad.” Stark sounded sincere, but then his face fell and he looked sad again.

“Robert is going to order you to take Dragonstone from the last Targaryens. Queen Rhaella and Prince Viserys escaped there before the sack of King’s Landing, and the queen is with child besides.”

“That should be easy enough…” Stannis began, but Stark cut him off.

“Robert wants all the dragons dead. You should’ve seen him when Tywin Lannister presented him with the corpses of Rhaenys and Aegon Targaryen. Rhaegar’s children were _murdered,_ Stannis, and all Robert did was look at them and pronounced them ‘dragonspawn.’ I’m afraid he’ll expect you to do the same to Queen Rhaella and her children.”

“Do you believe me capable of murdering an innocent mother and her children, Lord Stark?”

“I don’t know, Ser Stannis. You’re Robert’s brother, after all, and you can be just as stubborn and prideful as him.”

Stannis’ eyes flashed, and he was tempted to say something spiteful in return. _I won’t deny that I’m stubborn and prideful, but that’s where my similarities to Robert end._ But Stark wasn’t looking at him, his mind clearly somewhere else.

“Is there something wrong, Ned?”

The use of his name seemed to get Stark’s attention. He drummed his fingers on the table in front of him and took a long swallow of the fine wine.

“It’s my sister, Lyanna.”

_Lyanna, Robert’s Queen of Love and Beauty who’s partially responsible for this whole war._

“I’ve gotten word that she’s been held hostage in Dorne, but I don’t know if she’s alive.”

_He’s heartbroken,_ realized Stannis. He didn’t know why it had taken him so long to grasp that, despite the fact that reading people’s emotions wasn’t a strength of his.

“I hope your sister isn’t dead, Lord Stark.”

“Thank you.”

“For _your_ sake, not Robert’s. You seem to love her very much.”

“I do, Ser Stannis,” replied Stark gravely. “Lyanna was always wild, running around Winterfell with dirty dresses and riding her horses through the woods like a demon. I daresay that she brought out the best in me, for she appreciated my quiet nature and never failed to make me smile.”

In that moment, Stannis wished he could empathize with Ned Stark, he really did. But all he could think about was Robert welcoming Stark back to the Red Keep, full of praise for how _Stark_ ended the Storm’s End siege and brought back his future queen safe and sound.

~

Stannis met Ned Stark for the last time during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Before that, of course, Robert constantly talked about the dutiful, _honorable_ Lord of Winterfell and how he would help solve all of the Crown’s problems if only he bothered to care about what went on below the Neck. Lord Jon Arryn was always there, ever the loyal Hand, to soothe Robert when he got in his moods. _Ned Stark isn’t as honorable as you might think, Robert_ , Stannis would always reflect. _He fathered a bastard during your rebellion, a boy with dark hair and grey eyes who he had the gall to name after Lord Arryn._

Stark heartily congratulated Stannis for utterly destroying Victarion Greyjoy’s mighty Iron Fleet, a victory that turned the tide of the war and allowed Robert to storm Pyke and earn the king’s share of the glory. Stannis gravely thanked Stark, and he was just about to ask Stark about Winterfell when Robert strolled up, arms wide and a big smile directed at Stark.

“Ned!” boomed Robert, giving Stark a cheerful hug. “The feast has just started, and there’s more wine, mead, and ale than a man could hope to drink in one lifetime. We squashed those slimy squids once and for all, so for the nonce you don’t have to be so serious!”

Stark gave Robert a weak smile. “I’ll join you soon, Your Grace. I’ve just been talking with your brother about how he defeated the Iron Fleet.”

Robert looked at Stannis in surprise, as if he just realized that he was there. Stannis ground his teeth. “You’ll have plenty of time to hear Stannis bore you to death. Gods know he does that often enough to me on the Small Council. You should be there, ruling with me. Name the office and I’ll give it to you, Ned. With you and Lord Arryn by my side, we’ll be unstoppable!”

Stark shot Stannis an apologetic look, letting Robert lead him off to the roar of the feast in the distance. Stannis waited until Stark had disappeared before stalking off to find Ser Davos.

_If I don’t find someone sensible to talk to, I swear I’ll go insane._

 

**III. The Memory**

Stannis was on Dragonstone when he received word of Ned Stark’s death, which came soon after Robert’s. Stannis didn’t know what to feel. He hadn’t shed a tear over Robert’s demise, though he did regret never working up the courage to tell his brother of the treasons committed by Queen Cersei and Ser Jaime Lannister named Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. _I should’ve told Stark about the incest. He would’ve believed me just like Jon Arryn, and Stark was someone who Robert would’ve listened to. Stark and Arryn were the only people Robert ever loved, save for our parents and perhaps Lyanna Stark._ But Stannis hadn’t told Stark, and there was nothing he could do to change the past.

Ser Davos expressed his sorrow at Stark’s death to Stannis.

“Lord Stark was a good man. He was very kind to me after the Storm’s End siege and during the Greyjoy Rebellion, and he remembered the names of my wife and sons.”

“I’m sorry that you’re saddened, Ser Davos.”

“Lord Stark was always a good friend to you, my lord.”

“Eddard Stark was no friend of mine, and the man meant nothing to me,” said Stannis harshly. Davos’ eyebrows rose up in surprise.

“Though I will admit that Stark was an honest and honorable man. I respected him. But that doesn’t mean that I’ll let his son, the son he named after Robert, steal half of the kingdom that is now mine by rights.”

~

One by one, the usurpers of the War of the Five Kings fell away. First Renly, dead due to his treasons, then Balon Greyjoy, his head smashed when he fell off a bridge. Robb Stark was murdered at a wedding, a guest at Lord Frey’s table. Stannis felt no sorrow or pleasure when he learned of the Young Wolf’s fate, but a small part deep inside of him was glad that Ned Stark had died before he learned the terrible news. Fittingly, the boy Joffrey was poisoned at his own wedding, but that didn’t stop the Lannisters from crowning Tommen in his stead.

Before Melisandre led Stannis to the worst sin of all, Ser Davos convinced him to sail to the Wall where help was desperately needed. Davos’ idea held merit, for what kind of king would he be if he sat idly by and didn’t defend his realm?

~

It was at the Wall when Stannis was unexpectedly forced to deal with Ned Stark again.

Cotter Pyke led Stannis’ army and cavalry through the woods north of the Wall to where Mance Rayder, the self-styled King Beyond the Wall, had camped his army of thousands. But Rayder had made the mistake of having all of his _people_ there: his women, his children, and his old and infirm. The fighting men were scattered about in groups, and the organization of the camp was so terrible that Stannis nearly laughed. Overall, it was no challenge at all to smash Mance Rayder’s host, and his own losses were minimal.

Mance Rayder, clad in a black cloak slashed with red silk, looked Stannis straight in the eye when he was brought before him as a captive.

“So you’re the King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“And you’re the King Beyond the Wall.”

Rayder smiled. “I’ll make a song of this battle.”

“You’re welcome to try, but Cotter Pyke tells me that you’re guilty of not only attacking the Wall but of deserting the Night’s Watch. You’ll be executed before you get a chance to sing it.” Stannis’ voice was hard.

Rayder’s smile froze. “My wife and unborn child. Please don’t harm them.”

“Do you think me capable of murdering an innocent mother and her child?” _First Stark, now you. The blood of the Targaryen children isn’t on my hands, for Viserys and Daenerys escaped before I could take them prisoner. Not that Robert was pleased with my explanation, which is likely why he generously gifted me with Dragonstone for my seat instead of Storm’s End, the castle I almost died defending._

“You didn’t think anything of galloping through my camp and killing everyone in your path, even if they weren’t fighting men.”

“You didn’t leave me any choice. A good king should keep his people out of harm’s way.”

Rayder now looked desperate. “My wife and unborn child. They were in a raised white fur tent. Along with the Horn of Winter.”

“Very well,” nodded Stannis stiffly.

The white fur tent wasn’t hard to find, as a number of Stannis’ knights had gathered around it, jeering at its lone defender, who appeared to be nothing more than a man of the Night’s Watch. As Stannis moved closer, however, he sucked in his breath and stared. The man of the Night’s Watch had dark hair and a long face, and his pale grey eyes were warning anyone daring to come close that they would face death on the end of his sword…a bastard Valyrian steel sword.

Stannis was suddenly transported back nearly twenty years to the day Robert had brought Ned Stark to Storm’s End. This boy…no, this young man was the very image of Stark, right down to the Valyrian steel sword held steadily in his hands. _This can’t be. All of Stark’s sons are dead, the one he named after Robert and the ones he named after his brother and father. All of his trueborn sons. But that still leaves…_

“Well met, Jon Snow. You look ever so much like your father, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.” The jeering stopped, and the knights cleared a path so their king could approach the tent. Murmurs of “Your Grace” followed him.

Snow was clearly stunned by the address, and his face was a mixture of shock and amazement. He lowered his sword.

“I am King Stannis Baratheon, the rightful king of the seven kingdoms. What purpose do you have in guarding a wildling tent?”

Snow stared at him, clearly at a loss for words. A piercing scream came from the tent, which Snow looked at worryingly. Eventually, aware of all the attention on him, he began to speak. “I was sent by the Night’s Watch to discuss terms with Mance Rayder, but your army attacked as we were talking. Then his wife started to give birth…” _Even his voice sounds like Stark’s,_ thought Stannis. 

“There was nothing else for me to do.”

“It seems as though your negotiations were a success.”

“Were they, Your Grace? Do you know what Mance wanted?”

“Does it matter? He’s been taken prisoner, and you captured his family and the Horn of Winter from what he told me.”

Snow opened his mouth to say something more, but he wisely decided against it.

“We will talk again, Jon Snow.”

And talk they did, though not after Stannis had questioned the brothers of the Night’s Watch and many of the wildlings, trying to learn all he could of Ned Stark’s son. Snow was a deserter, a turncloak who had broken his vows and taken a wildling wife. He was also a fighter, a leader who had held Castle Black and the Wall against the fury of the North. Snow had found a cache of dragonglass, which one of his black brothers used to kill one of the dread White Walkers. As well, he was a warg who walked at night as a monstrous white direwolf.

Snow was the key to Stannis winning the North to his side. At least that’s what he told himself, after reading yet another raven from yet _another_ northern house stating that they would bend the knee to no king but the King in the North, whose name was and would always be STARK. Out of all the Starks for Stannis to find, he had to find the one who was the most like Ned Stark in both looks and manner. Snow even had the same bloody _honor_ that Stark had, and hopefully that same honor wouldn’t get him killed like his father. _If the gods existed, they would surely be laughing at me right now._

When Stannis watched Snow’s eyes grow wide with yearning at the prospect of being Lord Jon Stark of Winterfell, nevermore a Snow…he thought he’d had him. But before Snow had time to think about the offer, the Night’s Watch elected him their new Lord Commander—and Snow kept preaching those damned vows whenever Stannis brought up Winterfell again.

The rejection hurt, and Stannis didn’t understand _why_ it bothered him so much. It wasn’t the first time someone had turned him down. Robert had done it all the time, and so had Renly. So much pain and suffering could’ve been avoided if only Robert had appointed him Hand of the King, or if Renly had done his duty and bent the knee to his rightful king. But the more Stannis thought about it…Snow was just so much like Stark, more than he probably knew. _It’s like when Stark left me to get drunk with Robert during the Greyjoy Rebellion, even if he rarely drank. Stark felt that Robert was worth dying for, and die for him he did._ Stannis had wanted that unflinching loyalty, just as much as he had wanted Robert’s unconditional admiration. Perhaps with Stark’s son…

Stannis ground his teeth, balling his hands into fists.

_I see myself in Jon Snow, just as I did in Ned Stark all those years ago._

~

Even if Jon Snow stubbornly refused to take Stannis’ offer, he at least was more generous with his words. Snow knew the North and its people, which was of great use. He also didn’t shy away from doing what needed to be done, and Stannis couldn’t help but nod in approval as Janos Slynt lost his head for a lifetime of treachery and insubordination. He was coming to respect Snow, albeit grudgingly.

One day, Snow fell to talking to Stannis about his siblings, his voice laced with sorrow and regret.

“They’re all dead, save for my sister Sansa. My father and brothers were murdered by men they trusted, and Arya…no one knows what happened to her, which means that her corpse has probably rotted away by now.”

“You seem fond of Arya.”

“I loved…I _still_ love her very much. She was wild, always getting into trouble, not quite wanting to act like a lady. She never failed to make me smile, and she loved it when I would ruffle her hair. Out of all our siblings, it was only Arya and I who looked like father, with long faces and dark hair.” Snow smiled, a genuine smile filled with love. Stannis recalled seeing that same smile on Ned Stark’s face almost twenty years ago, when Stark had talked about his sister Lyanna.

Snow turned away, and when he looked back at Stannis his face was a mask.

Soon enough, it was time for Stannis to leave the Wall. The wildlings were waging no more attacks, and the White Walkers had yet to show themselves. There was no use for him to sit idle at the edge of the world, so Stannis decided to continue his campaign to take the North by battle. Though he would have to do it without a son of Eddard Stark at his side as originally planned.

“You’re welcome to march to war with me, Lord Snow. You know Winterfell better than any man in Westeros.”

“I’m unable to oblige you, Your Grace.”

“But you want to.” Snow’s eyes hardened, though not before a flash of longing shot through them.

“I’m bound to the Wall by my vows.”

“Yes, yes, I knew you’d say that,” replied Stannis dismissively. “Though keep in mind, some of your Night’s Watch brothers have been grumbling that you’ve given me too much help.”

“Words are not swords,” insisted Snow. “The Night’s Watch takes no part in the affairs of the realm.”

“Yet you claim that you are the shield that _guards_ the realms of men all the same. You have very curious way of taking no part, Jon Snow.”

~

“Roose Bolton’s bastard spawn has married Arya Stark, Ned’s little girl!” declared one of the northern clansmen.

“We owe it to Ned to save his daughter from that beast,” agreed another.

If Stannis never heard the name “Arya Stark” again, he could die happy. Not that he planned to die any time soon. Lady Stark was all the northern clansmen could talk about, and Stannis couldn’t do anything except grit his teeth. The northern clansmen, along with the Mormonts and Glovers, were all marching with him, and soon he would attack Winterfell with five thousand men. Not bad, considering he sailed to the Wall with fifteen hundred. When Theon Greyjoy was captured and presented to him, the northmen suddenly had something more to talk about: vengeance for Bran and Rickon Stark, the precious little boys of their _precious_ Ned. Stannis would oblige them, of course. Greyjoy was a traitor and turncloak, and he’d be stupid to show him mercy even if half his army wouldn’t desert him.

Lady Arya Stark was in a sorry state, however, and she only fueled the northmen’s desire for revenge. _So much for my being the one true king. They care as much for my claim as for what’s happening in Dorne. If only Snow had taken up my offer to become Lord Stark, perhaps I’d have more respect. If the mere memory of Ned Stark causes men to be this passionate, imagine how they’d act if a man looking like Ned Stark in the prime of his life was rallying them._

“Lady Arya.”

The girl could barely look at him, and she couldn’t stop _crying_. The weeping of women always made Stannis uncomfortable. He supposed that she looked enough like Ned Stark and Jon Snow, for her face was long and her hair dark brown. Her eyes were brown instead of grey, though. Did Catelyn Stark have brown eyes? Stannis couldn’t remember.

“I’m sending you to your brother at the Wall. He’s the Lord Commander, and he’ll be able to protect you as well as any.”

Arya’s nose was running, and she wiped it with her glove. She remained silent.

“He told me that he loves you very much.”

At that, Arya covered her face with her hands, sobbing hysterically.

This _is the wild little girl that Snow had smiled fondly over? Perhaps she’s still traumatized over her marriage to Ramsay Snow._ It was no matter. A true king paid his debts, and he owed Snow for his battle advice and his warnings about the traitorous Karstarks.

_Are you pleased with me now, Ned Stark?_ Wondered Stannis. _I helped your son win a battle, and if I survive this I’ll return to the Wall to help him win the war against the undead Others. Hopefully he’ll live the long and happy life with his beloved little sister that you never got to live._

~

Roose Bolton had blundered, that much was for certain. Instead of settling in for a siege, Bolton had sent half his army to meet Stannis in the field.

Stannis was prepared to meet the challenge.

As Stannis’ soldiers assembled and got ready to charge, a savage battle cry rose up, accompanied by war horns and trumpets. Many things were shouted, cries to the Lord of Light, various castles in the Stormlands…But the loudest and most passionate of all were _Ned Stark! The Starks of Winterfell! Ned, Ned, NED!_ He let the words wash over him.

_I’ll never be free of Ned Stark, will I? His memory will haunt me until I die._

Stannis drew Lightbringer, which had always paled in comparison to Stark’s Ice or Snow’s Longclaw. He could hear the screams of the Bolton and Frey soldiers crashing to their deaths through the ice of the frozen lakes. It was time for Stannis to do his duty and defend the realm against the monsters who had defiled it.

_His_ realm.

 

END


End file.
